Borderline
by crumbcake
Summary: **H/D Slash** It's their last year in Hogwarts and war will break out once The Boy Who Lived finishes school. Harry refuses to leave the rather livid Draco at peace, forcing the Slytherin to reevaluate everything he stands for. Part 3 up.
1. Borderline

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Borderline 

by: Crumbcake

A million thanks to my beta Tacet for catching most of my dumb mistakes. This is a slash Harry/Draco fic and it will eventually have a higher rating since the two lovies can't keep their paws off each other.

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Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit fun. 

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Father, 

I am _not_ taking my responsibilities lightly. I do know how important my duties are to us and I continue to take them as seriously as I have for the last couple of_ years_. 

I have NOT slacked off. 

It is entirely unfair to 'deal with my disobedience regarding our dark lord' when I have done nothing of any sort to justify such a consequence. I've kept a close watch on 'things' here, like I _always_ do. My last few letters have not been as extensive as what they normally are ONLY because I've been preoccupied with my studies. 

The little mudblood whore (the one that adheres to Potter like a bad case of body odor) has beat me on top marks. Yes, father, again. I'm sure you will punish me as you see fit, but I really couldn't care less about what you would or wouldn't do to me. I'm going to study harder anyway, because a MUDBLOOD should never top a Malfoy in _anything_. 

I swear, father, that skanky bookworm slut must be blowing Snape straight through a whole new level of Nirvana for him to give her higher marks than me. I'm working harder now, if she again beats me on top marks, especially in potions, then I will have to murder her much sooner than I had anticipated. I sincerely hope that she's one of the earlier ones to get killed.

Father, speaking of which, could you have me marked sooner? Crabbe and Goyle were marked over the summer, as I'm sure you are very much aware of. I turn 17 in just over a month, why don't you arrange it so that I receive mine by then? Christmas vacation is too far away. I will not wait that long. 

I can't believe the whore beat me in potions. 

I'll get down to 'business' now, or I'm afraid that you'll have another fit and call me not only disobedient but also fat and ugly. Because I have not mentioned Potter's current whereabouts in the first three words of this letter does not mean I have foregone the consequence of my duties. And I am NOT fat and ugly. 

Well, daddy dearest, it pains me to say it but.. there. is. NOTHING. to. report. It's the same bloody routine every single day. Potter goes to breakfast, Potter goes to class, Potter goes to lunch, Potter goes to Quidditch practice. Potter goes to Gryffindor tower and remains there to wank off the day's stresses and begin the next day anew. 

You know sir the last part does not sound like a half bad idea. I wonder if masturbating makes you fat and ugly. Don't worry father, I'll get to the bottom of that. I believe Potter has gained a bit and he's looking uglier these days.. 

Father, haven't you been gaining a considerate amount of weight lately? 

In any respect, there is nothing going on. It's dreadfully boring, and I assure you that if Potter's ever vulnerable, then I'll make certain to take advantage of that opportunity. Then I'll gift wrap him and send him as a welcome back present to our dear lord, Tommy boy. Tell him, Draco sends his regards. 

See, father? I'm the very epitome of obedience. 

Now, one more subject to address, my birthday. Get me two things, an invisibility cloak and Granger's disfigured bloody head embedded on a pointy stick I am so ANGRY. 

Tell Narcissa the chocolates were good. 

Your obedient baby boy.. hm, that sounds affectionate. Can't use that then. How about the nice, unemotional, duty-filled word, 'heir'? It's much more fitting, don't you think?

Your one and only heir (infertility's a bitch, isn't it?) is becoming a man now. In honor of this, send your heir more money. 

Respectfully yours, hugs and kisses and a whole lot of other rubbish,

Draco 

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Draco signed his name with a flourish and scowled darkly at it as his thoughts turned to Hermione Granger. Week after week of being topped by the mudblood was working away on Draco leaving him entirely humorless and an absolute horror to be around. Lately everyone, his own house included, had taken to avoiding the irate young man at all costs. 

The thick, pent-up air of frustration surrounding Draco was nearly visible to the eye, and anyone unlucky enough to be in his way barreled out of it for fear of encountering that sharp tongue now more stinging than ever and a poisonous sneer that promised nothing but pain and violence. 

Potions was his best subject and he was Snape's favorite student. He studied for this, studied meticulously for the past month, foregoing food and sleep, and rivaling the study habits of an especially dedicated 7th year Ravenclaw preparing for Newts. He did his best. 

And a mudblood, the very same mudblood of old, had beaten him. Again. 

A mudblood should not be able to rival a pureblood, especially if the pureblood was a Malfoy determined to excel. 

He snorted and flung his quill down in disgust, almost knocking over his blue ink bottle. He slouched back in his chair and stared vacantly at his bedroom's fireplace. The fire had gone out a long while ago leaving ash and soot in its place. 

He's outdone by Potter and he's outdone by Granger. Those bloody Gryffindors always out to ruin or humiliate him. The few good things he could've been proud of were not his to boast about. He could've been the best Quidditch seeker and the best student by his own right. 

Malfoys were not second best and here he was frustratingly in that position. 

His thoughts led him back to his father and his own way of handling the superior. If such a situation ever presented itself to Lucius Malfoy he would've simply killed or incapacitated anyone who dared best him. 

Coward. Idiot. 

Draco was not like his father. He would be the best simply because he _was_ the best and not because he had gotten rid of those that compromised his rank. Unless, of course, the ones that bested him were mudbloods or muggle lovers. Those born inferior and those foolish enough to embrace such backward people should not be allowed to consort with the purebloods in the first place.

They should remain completely separate or better yet eliminated, they are inferior and they could contaminate the bloodlines. They all should've died. Survival of the fittest and mudbloods weren't it. 

If any such wizard or witch had bested him, it was entirely by bumbling idiotic chance. 

Draco's eyes scoured his bedroom (immaculately clean as always) and traveled down to the table in front of him, eyes resting on his ink bottle. He picked it up and shifted it idly from hand to hand weighing it. 

Bumbling idiotic chance. 

But… 

Granger had bested him on every day of every week of every month for the last 6 years. Chances do not come so often. How could a mudblood witch have the highest marks? She must be sleeping with the professors. There were no other possibilities. It was impossible for a pureblood to simply not be good enough. 

He had steadfast ideals, values and beliefs. Granger being not only good but also the best rocked the boat. 

It frightened him.

He set the ink bottle down and began to pick at invisible specks of dirt from his robes.

Maybe he should have a talk with Snape and get to the bottom of this. 

He let out a tired, exasperated breath.

Maybe he shouldn't ask anything at all; he might get an answer that he wouldn't want to hear. Or maybe Hermione is the one exception to the rule. 

Resolutely taking his mind off Granger and other unpleasantness, Draco leaned forward and skimmed over his letter. As he hoped, it was ruder and a little less respectful than his last letters. He smirked. His father would either have a conniption or find the letter amusing. He couldn't care less. Even if Lucius were to get upset, he wasn't much of a threat to Draco. He would not kill his only heir. Draco neatly rolled up the letter and tucked it away inside his robes. 

He strolled out of his dorm leaving a locking spell in place and headed down to the common room. It was late in the afternoon and the room was empty save for Crabbe and Goyle who sat near the fireplace on chairs that looked ready to collapse from carrying all the excessive weight. Both were hunched over a table, eyebrows furrowed and writing on parchment. They appeared to be doing homework. Draco rolled his eyes. 

Probably the report assigned weeks ago by Binns. Draco had already handed his in. 

He slipped past them unnoticed. It wouldn't have mattered anyway if they saw him; he hadn't talked to them for ages. Draco had been a silent, brooding, solitary figure since the end of 6th year. He was glad to no longer share a dormitory with that pair of dimwitted oafs. Being a Prefect did have certain privileges after all. 

He left the Slytherin dungeons behind and made his way down the empty corridors and up to the school owlery. The hallways were empty; most students were outside enjoying the last few days of warm weather. It would probably be the last peaceful summer that they would have. Once Potter graduated and left Hogwarts' protection then the Dark Lord's attack would be launched. Draco was looking forward to an all out war. To once and for all get rid of those that should not be in the Wizarding world in the first place. 

The soft hoots of several owls and the flutter of wings became more apparent. He reached the owlery and peered in. There were hundreds of owls, most were sleeping and those that were awake were eating owl treats presumably given to them by their owners. He stepped in and immediately his nose wrinkled in disgust as his shoes met with the sticky, slippery surface of the droppings covered floor. 

He would've used his own eagle owl, which had perched on his windowsill, but he always put an extra effort in annoying his father and this was one of those moments. He looked through the ranks of school owls in search for the most pitiful and elderly of the flock. At the far end, near the far wall, there was one tired looking, ruffled and obviously aged barn owl staring at him wearily. It was perched there alone and it looked like it was ready to fall over dead at any moment. 

It also looked like it knew that Draco was looking for a sort like itself. 

Draco smirked and made a beeline straight for that owl that hooted in protest. He tied his letter to it and he could've sworn that the owl had groaned outright. He held his arm out and let it perch upon him. 

"Good bird." He said, pleasantly enough as he walked it to the open windows. "I need you to send this letter to Lucius Malfoy." 

"Take your time, owl. No rush." 

Draco flung the owl forward into the warm weather outside where it quickly lost control, diving several meters down before regaining air. It reached a tree, the closest one in sight, where it immediately took a nap. The journey so far had taken a lot out of it. 

Draco snickered. 

He hung around a bit longer, enjoying the view he had from being so high up. Students were scattered everywhere throughout the Hogwarts grounds. The Hufflepuffs were using the Quidditch field at the moment and were playing as mediocre as ever. Loyal and inadequate bunch the whole lot. 

His thoughts ran to the only Hufflepuff that had left a mark on Hogwarts and only because of his death. Cedric Diggory, first casualty of the soon in coming war. Loyal and inadequate Diggory was dead before his 18th birthday. 

His death made the war real to the students. Voldemort was suddenly a real threat to their lives, he was no longer just a frightening evil that took place in the past and now easily defeated by the boy who lived. Potter couldn't save them all. There were going to be casualties.

Draco wondered as he looked at the student body below him, how many were going to survive. How unlikely it was for any of them to reach old age without being affected. Many of them were probably going to take the lives of their fellow students. 

Plenty of them were going to get killed, especially from the Gryffindor and Slytherin houses, the former where most of the active muggle and mudblood supporters were from and the latter where most of Deatheaters were from. The brainless Gryffindors were always ready to fight the good fight and the Slytherins were ambitious enough to fight to the death for the perfect world they envisioned. 

Unfortunately for Potter, he was on the wrong side. 

There was going to be blood and mayhem but at all ends, Potter's luck was going to run out and the Dark Lord was going to win. 

"Fancy meeting you here, Malfoy."

Speak of the devil. 

Draco scowled and turned around to find Harry Potter several steps away, staring at him intently. He had his snow owl perched on his arm and an envelope in the other. How did he manage to get so close without Draco noticing? 

"Potter." He said simply, voice filled with scorn. 

Of all the infuriatingly things Potter could've done, he simply stared at him dispassionately a bit longer and then ignored him completely, which vexed Draco to no end. It was like he had ceased to exist to Harry Potter, not significant enough to warrant attention. Inside he fumed in fury but he did not let any of that show, instead watching Potter coolly as he spoke quietly to his owl. 

Potter had grown up. 

There was an absolute confidence about him, almost arrogant. He was not easily agitated, and he watched and observed everything with single-minded intent. Harry had shot up over the 5th year summer and had filled out a bit, losing that perpetually starved look he had going on since childhood. He was tall, they were both tall but he beat Draco out by a few centimeters. 

He was confident and had no need to prove himself to anyone. Draco absolutely hated him. 

Harry stood beside him and crossed his arms over the windowsill, gazing out. 

"Congratulations, Malfoy." He sounded amused. "You've now managed to anticipate my moves around the school. Should make spying on me that much easier."

Draco sneered and met Harry's amused eyes with a venomous glare. _That bastard thinks everything in life leads to him. _

"Despite what you may think, the world does not in fact, revolve around you, Potter." 

Harry wasn't impressed with the look. "Really? Pity that." He shrugged, nonchalantly. "So what brings you here? 

"Last time I checked, Potter, we were enemies. Enemies don't strike up friendly conversations with one another." 

"So now you're my enemy?"

Draco just glared at him. Harry's eyes were wide in fake innocence and his eyebrows raised in inquiry.

"Yes, I am your enemy, you dolt."

"Nah, I don't think so." was his immediate reply. He gave the somewhat stunned Draco a shit-eating grin. Draco stared at him in confusion. Even if it was meant to get under his skin, this was the first time he had ever smiled at him. 

"You've lost it." 

"Maybe. You know what I think?" His voice was light, still tinged with amusement. He must have been toying with Draco and the Slytherin had more than enough.

Draco shoved past him and headed towards the door. 

"I don't care what you think." He said over his shoulder. "Stay the hell out of my life Potter." 

"I think you've grown up."

That gave Draco pause. He turned around, staring emotionlessly at Harry. The owls perched nearby were strangely quiet it was almost as if they were listening in on their conversation.

"And?" His voice was barren.

"And.." Harry advanced towards Draco until they were merely half a meter apart. He smiled sweetly. "I think you're cute." 

Draco's eyes widened and he stared in bewilderment. His lips tried to form words but all he managed to do was sputter. He was completely unprepared for this unusual form of attack from the Gryffindor. Harry continued to smile. 

Completely at a loss, and not knowing what else to do, Draco spun away and fled the owlery. 

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A/N: 1) Any and all feedback would be very much appreciated.

2) I need some more betas especially those that are good at catching grammatical errors. If anyone's interested please email me privately saying so. (Please!) 

3) Thanks for reading. :) 


	2. Ambiguous

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Borderline 

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Part 2 - Ambiguous

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Notes: Many thanks to lodestar for beta-ing. ^^ This is a slash Harry/Draco fic and it will eventually have a higher rating since the two lovies can't keep their paws off each other.

Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit fun. 

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Father, 

I've come to realize that Granger does not need to blow Snape for top grades. No. Potter more than happily does it for her. 

Potter's gay. 

I don't believe it. 

No, I take that back, I _do_ believe it, what I don't quite believe is the amount of gall that filthy bastard must have in order to exercise his rainbow colored disposition on me. 

He called me cute, which I admit is only too true, but he said it like he meant it. He's out of his flipping mind. Did he expect me to whoop in joy because he has found his inner crooked self? Yippee for Potter. 

Perhaps he thinks he could woe me with his non-existent boyish charm. Muggle-arsed Potter and Death Eater Draco; wouldn't we make a charming couple? I know you would love it sir; your only heir falling for your Lord's most hated nemesis. Most hated MALE nemesis. Something interesting to share at tea parties, hm? 'The Malfoy line ends with my son; he's a faggot and he's dating the muggle-loving boy who lived. Biscuits, anyone?' 

It would be a match made in heaven if I didn't hate him with such a fervent homicidal passion. 

I will owl you if there are any further developments. I must now go read up on lubricants. I find this gay thing intriguing and really I'd much rather avoid any soreness. I'm a Malfoy, my arse is tender. 

Your (queer?) son,

Draco

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Distractedly, Draco offered his owl, Maia, some treats while he read over his letter. She nipped at his fingers with affection and picked at the offered snacks. 

The letter helped a little. 

Nothing was more gratifying to Draco than aggravating his father. Satisfied with a job well done, he tied the letter to Maia and watched as she stretched her wings once and flew off through the window quickly disappearing from view. He wondered vaguely whether the school owl he sent previously had made it to the Malfoy estate or if it had actually croaked and died before then. At least there wasn't anything terribly important enclosed in that letter. 

Draco stood and crossed his arms as he leaned back against the cold stone wall. He glared at the door opposite him half-expecting Potter to burst through it at any moment. 

Four weeks had past since the 'incident' as he referred to it. 

He had longed to speak to someone about the Gryffindor's pursuit -- mainly for a chance to swap viscous Potter taunts. Perhaps then, if he made light of it, Potter's flirting would cease to affect him so thoroughly. It was unnerving how much it truly bothered him. Having no one to confide in, he decided on the next best thing for venting; writing a potentially self-hazardous letter and annoying daddy dearest. 

Draco was careful, however. He held little respect for Lucius Malfoy but he restrained himself from going too far (not by much). No matter how idiotic and cowardly Draco believed his father to be, he knew full well how powerful a Dark Arts wizard Lucius truly was. He was conniving and he was merciless. 

No mercy for anyone. 

Including family. 

Draco wanted to irk his father not get himself killed. He didn't want his father to _really _think that he had given Potter's advances much thought. 

Malfoy needed an heir to continue the bloodline, however that took a back seat to his Dark Lord's cause. If Lucius Malfoy were to hold the suspicion that his heir opposed Voldemort's beliefs then the Slytherin would find himself at the lethal end of his father's wand within the blink of an eye. 

Draco eyed the door warily. 

Voldemort. He didn't care much about that foul, repulsive wizard. When he was younger he followed the Dark lord because his father raised him to do so. Now, he followed because Voldemort was powerful, he invoked fear in wizards everywhere and his goals coincided with Draco's own.

The door remained undisturbed. No daft Gryffindors barging in. He closed his eyes to regain his composure and berated himself for finding it necessary to do so. Draco should be impenetrable; Voldemort didn't faze him and neither should Potter.

He frowned as he thought of his father's blind adoration for the Slytherin heir. 

Voldemort.

Something had to be inherently wrong with a leader who was defeated time and again by a mere muggle-raised boy. 

Draco bit down on the inside of his lip. A sickening thought occurred to him; maybe Potter really was special. Maybe, he wasn't just another commonplace wizard, but something different and vastly more powerful. 

But he wasn't a Pureblood. His mother was a Mudblood. He should be an insignificant Muggle born not fit for the Wizarding world. 

But he was The Boy Who Lived. He was the boy who survived the impossible and nearly did away with Voldemort when only a few months old. Harry Potter, the boy who lived and continued to live. And if incapacitating the most powerful Dark Arts wizard before he had even learned to sit up wasn't enough, that very same boy defeated Voldemort year after year at the end of school terms like it were an ordinary part of boring routine. It was ludicrous. Voldemort was a joke. 

Harry Potter, Harry Potter, Harry Potter. 

Draco growled. He _hated_ Harry Potter but now he especially hated him because Potter was playing games. He was awfully Slytherin for a dim-witted Gryffindor Draco mused.

The blonde had always been one-step ahead of everyone else (the Granger whore being the occasional exception) but this time he was the one being toyed with. Harry laughed and winked; holding the reins while Draco waded blindly through the dark. He didn't know what the Gryffindor was playing at.

His nails dug sharply into his skin. He_ hated _him absolutely. 

Why the sudden interest? 

Potter flirted with an increasingly frustrated Draco any chance he had. He would catch his eye during class and wink, grinning impishly while Draco glowered. He ignored all of the Slytherin's threats and he had a jolly good time with the lashings he received from the razor sharp tongue. 

In the halls he purposely brushed up against him, letting his hands linger on Draco as he passed by, leaving Draco annoyed and wound up. It was a baffling situation. In all his life he had never felt so not in control. So.. 

Helpless. 

So he ran away from the helplessness. Draco avoided the Gryffindor at all costs, altering his routes to classes and eating alone in his dormitory so he wouldn't have to deal with Potter's pursuit. 

He knew he wasn't going to be able to stand much more. 

He tried concentrating on his studies but he couldn't. Potter was a puzzle his mind kept gnawing at. He didn't understand the Gryffindor's motives. He wanted answers. 

Not that he didn't have the opportunity to be alone with Potter. 

The few times Harry had managed to corner Draco, the Gryffindor had coaxed, threatened, even begged for a chance to talk in private. Draco would sneer at him and shove him out of the way. He sent letters by owl containing hours and places to meet with the Slytherin. Draco tossed them into his fireplace, still sealed. Watching them burn and shrivel into dust was a small comfort. 

He wasn't going to play his game. 

Running fingers through his hair, he exhaled sharply and began to pace. His room had become his prison/safe-haven from Potter. He was tired and foremost he was hungry. Last time he ate was during breakfast, which was over ten hours ago. Coming to an abrupt stop in front of his books, he glared down at his clock. There was still a quarter of an hour left before dinner was over. 

The Slytherin picked up the quill and ink he had used and set them back in their proper place. Resolutely, he headed out of the dungeons. Hiding did not agree with him. He was sick of it. Draco was going to eat in the Great Hall even if it killed him. Potter was nothing. His flirting was nothing. Him daring to sit at the Slytherin table next to the startled blonde was nothing. 

To hell with Potter. At all ends he was a low class wizard who had escaped death by sheer luck too many times. He was insignificant and Draco should not waste time or mind on bloody Gryffindors and their foolish antics. 

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The corners of his lips tugged up, forming a tiny smirk as he finished off his dinner with pumpkin juice. The Great Hall was empty except for one or two students that lingered in their respective tables. His dinner was thankfully Potter-free. 

Draco now more relaxed than he had been in weeks, took a lazy look around. Peace and quiet at last. Feeling an uncharacteristic yet genuine happiness he propped up his chin on his hand and practically beamed at the students around him. Almost unwittingly, his eyes slowly ran across the Gryffindor table. 

The table was empty save for Finnigan and Thomas who were both blatantly staring at Draco in dumb shock. They had never seen Draco look so..happy with the world. It was extremely disturbing. 

The Slytherin caught them gaping and smirked, even wriggling his fingers at the two causing Seamus to gasp and Dean to drop his fork. Draco snickered. 

He stretched languidly and with a wink meant to shock the duo into cardiac arrest, turned away from them. Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, Draco drank in the quiet, soothing environment. He couldn't be happier. 

His contentedly fuzzy mood was short lived however. He felt a ghost of warmth brush against his cheek and his eyes fluttered open instinctively to find the source. His heart seized, plummeting down to his toes and he bit down hard on his tongue to stifle the scream that threatened to come forth and embarrass him. Keeping Draco company was Harry Potter's body-less but very amused floating head.

It took Draco several long minutes to regain his composure. Momentarily incapable of speech, he hunched in on himself defensively and glowered at Potter defiantly. His face twisted and flushed with anger as he regarded Potter through narrow furious eyes. 

"You don't mind, do you?" Said Harry. 

Draco had never been more earnest than at this moment. "I. Hate. You." He gritted through clenched teeth. 

Harry smiled in response. 

The smile made Draco's temper flare out of control. He could feel his blood boiling, threatening to scorch his skin from the inside out. He wanted to claw off that smile and torture Harry until he squealed in agony. Hurt him badly enough to make the Gryffindor regret ever laying eyes on Draco. Visions of himself tearing into Harry and scattering the blood drenched remains came to mind.

Wordlessly, he sprang forward, reaching out for the body obviously hidden beneath an invisibility cloak. His hands came in bruising contact with Harry's shoulders. He squeezed, digging his nails in convulsively, making Harry wince. The Gryffindor's eyes widened in surprise and he looked down at the pale searching hands running down the silky material of the cloak. Fingers encircled his nipples and Harry looked up questioningly at Draco who stared back angrily. 

The few students nearby who had noticed the pair stared at the Slytherin table in disbelief. 

Draco smiled cruelly and pinched one of Harry's nipples. He twisted ruthlessly and pulled the Gryffindor closer by it. Harry grimaced but stifled his yelp and leaned into Draco to ease the sharp pain. 

"Cover your head, Potter." Draco whispered dangerously. "We're leaving." He cleared out of the room, dragging Harry along by the nipple. Perplexed looks were cast his way as Draco walked briskly towards the dungeons with one hand firmly latched on an invisible Potter. He didn't know where he was going exactly but he needed to do this. 

They reached an empty classroom where Draco reeled the Gryffindor inside. Harry stumbled; colliding with several upturned chairs and forcing years old dust airborne making him cough violently. 

The room was small but with an extremely high ceiling. It was cluttered with old school furniture most covered in worn black tapestry. The air was thick and stale weighing heavily on Draco. Dim light came from tiny windows high up, flooding the room with an eerie soft glow.

It was not the most comfortable of places to interrogate Potter. Maybe the atmosphere will work for him and keep the Gryffindor off balance. 

He locked the door with a spell and faced Potter who had removed his invisibility cloak. He was seated on top of a desk, hands relaxed at his sides, facing Draco. The room's lighting made the cool emerald eyes appear to glow as they watched Draco somberly. The black messy hair was parted slightly, allowing a partial view of the lightning bolt scar. The young man in front of him was the only one to ever come close to killing Voldemort. Who, of the two, was the worthless one? 

Draco scowled. They regarded each other for long tense minutes. Finally, Harry rolled his eyes and broke the silence.

"Can't we just talk?"

Draco's answer came on automatic. "No, we can't _just talk_." He mocked. "There is nothing to talk about." 

Oddly enough, Harry brightened and flashed a smile. "Are you kidding? There's plenty to talk about." He spoke in a teasing tone of voice that Draco had only heard him use among friends. 

Draco raised an eyebrow and leaned back against the door. "Is that so?" He said blandly. 

"Yes." Was the immediate reply. "Look, a cut." Still smiling, he raised his index finger so Draco could see the tiny healed cut. He continued, "I accidentally hurt myself in Care of Magical Creatures but it's all better now." His smile broadened. 

__

He's insane. _Potter has finally cracked._

"Allow me to conjure an owl and mail somebody who cares, Potter."

Harry laughed noiselessly. Draco felt that he was being taunted. His eyes narrowed. 

"What do you want from me?" He asked evenly. 

Harry shrugged. "Well, you're cute and I-" He began but Draco interrupted.

"Yes, I'm cute, I'm a Pureblood and I'm smart. Smarter than you are. And I have more money than you'll ever have and I have everything going for me while you don't. My parents are alive and Voldemort isn't after me. I'm a Slytherin and you're a Gryffindor. I'm your enemy. From the start Potter you chose me as your enemy. I hate you, you hate me." He paused and moved closer to Harry. He hissed, "Why oh why the sudden interest." 

"I already told you. I want to get to know you better. I-"

"Bullshit." Draco snapped. 

For a brief moment Harry's bright permanent smile faltered and a steely glare took its place. 

__

Aha. I'm getting somewhere. 

Draco smiled grimly. He advanced even closer and leaned into Harry, bringing his arms up on either side of the Gryffindor. They were almost nose to nose. Harry's smile was back and firmly in place. 

__

Still playing Potter? Fine, I'll play your game. 

Harry's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. It seemed frozen. Draco studied the guarded green gaze thoughtfully. He was millimeters away from those smiling lips. He could feel Harry's body heat intermingle with his own. Warm moisture tickled his lips each time Harry breathed out. Harry's smell, soap along with musk, assaulted his senses. Draco's heart rate was speeding up. 

Pale thin lips traveled across Harry's cheek and brushed against his ear. They were soft, pliable, tempting. Draco idly dragged a fingernail across the warm skin. He wet his lips and exhaled slowly through his mouth making Harry's spine shiver.

He whispered, "What do you want from a Death Eater, Harry?"

Harry's body grew rigid. His reply was immediate and adamant. "You're not a Death Eater." 

The angry hushed tone echoed loudly around the room.

Draco observed his reaction vacantly. His hand kept caressing and was now tracing Harry's waistband. 

"That is only temporary. I will be a Death Eater before I leave Hogwarts. We're going to face each other during the war, Potter. You've escaped through the cracks too many times. I promise you that it won't happen again. I'm going to kill you, Harry. Your side can't win."

With a jolt, Draco suddenly noticed Harry's hand wrapped tightly around his wrist. The grip tightened painfully, enough to bruise the milk-white skin. Harry pulled Draco's hand away from his waist and with sudden force, yanked the Slytherin forward, knocking him off balance. 

Draco stumbled and landed bodily on Harry. He was being entirely supported by the Gryffindor. Draco could feel the calm rise and fall of Harry's chest against his own unsteady one. 

He became acutely aware of the unmistakable hard bulge that was pressed against his thigh. To his consternation, he felt an answering one blossom from his own traitorous body. 

No one had ever dared to treat Draco in such a manner. Harry made no attempt to hide his arousal from the Slytherin instead he pulled him closer. Draco had lost control of the situation. To his disbelieving horror, he felt his face grow warm and his ears begin to burn. 

After wasting precious seconds recovering from shock, Draco began to struggle. Harry took a firm hold of his hair and pulled, forcing Draco to crane his neck back. He winced. 

"The Dark Arts poster child is very cocky, isn't he? What makes you think that you'll do any better than Voldemort has in trying to kill me?" 

He scowled and glared up defiantly at Harry. "Let me go."

A very ugly look came across Harry's face. All humor had dissipated along with the smile that was long gone. The Slytherin watched this transformation in morbid wonder. 

"Why the sudden interest, Malfoy? I'll tell you. I want to save you. I hate you but I'm going to try and save you anyway. If I can't then at least I want to understand you. Know your enemy and all that. You won't be able to kill me."

They glared at one another, each sizing the other up.

Then, Harry let go. Draco dropped unceremoniously on the floor. He didn't attempt to get up, he just watched Harry warily. 

The Gryffindor slid off the table and made his way to the door. He took a sharp breath and faced Draco one last time. 

He smiled. There was an edge to his voice. "See you tomorrow, then?" He didn't wait for an answer. Draco watched as he did the counterspell for the lock and left the room. Draco then stood up and swept out of the room. His feet brought him to the Slytherin common room, where he sat down and stared at the fireplace. 

He had a lot to think about. 


	3. Trample

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Borderline 

**Part 3 - Trample**

**Notes:** Here be several rounds of thank you: Much thanks to sqeakyclean and Kyohaku for beta-reading. You guys rock. And also thank you to Draconna for looking over part 2 (Sorry! Gah.. ). Sadly, I had posted the NOT beta-read version of part 2. Yay me. -_-;; And finally, thanks to everyone who left a review! I really appreciate the comments, without them I probably would've taken much longer. Again *thank you*, and don't hesitate to leave some more. Heh. ^^; 

****

Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit fun. 

****

--------

He spotted Harry among the dark blur of students who were heading towards the Great Hall. He was, as always, in between charity-case Weasel and the Mudblood. The trio appeared to be in the midst of a particularly amusing conversation as each had a dumb smile pasted across their face. The redheaded git was gesturing theatrically, blubbering on about something that had sent Potter into a laughing fit. He was laughing so hard that he had apparently gone weak in the knees and was leaning heavily on Granger to keep from falling. Draco smirked as he watched Potter stumble along making a fool of himself. _Some savior you are, Potter._

They were immersed in their own world, huddled close together and not paying attention to their surroundings. They were blissfully ignorant of everything save their happiness. Draco snorted.

The three of them walked leisurely towards the Great Hall; they had yet to notice the Slytherin. Draco took advantage of that and casually made his way to one side of the corridor where he stood half hidden from view by a large statue, which stood before the Grand Hall entrance. He watched them silently through narrowed eyes and waited for them to draw closer. Avoiding Potter was impossible. The Gryffindor had the uncanny ability to always find Draco despite the sometimes drastic measures the Slytherin took to avoid him. Afterseveral weeks of the Gryffindor constantly bothering him, he was getting used to it**. **They usually greeted each other in the corridors with long meaningful insults and overly cheerful sarcasm. 

Draco glared as he noticed the Granger whore take part in their conversation. He could hear traces of her sickeningly cheerful voice among the general din of the crowd. Everything about that slut annoyed him, from the amount of books that she carried to the way she breathed air. He hated the fact that she breathed at all, the fact that she was Head Girl, and especially the fact that she now dared to glare back at him, hate for hate. 

For all three had suddenly noticed the Slytherin and stopped dead in their tracks. 

Draco smirked at Granger. Weasel seemed ready to explode and Potter… well, who knew what was going on in that surprisingly calculating mind. Granger scowled her face red from the unwanted attention. They had exchanged words yesterday, Draco eventually rendering her speechless with anger. The blond smirked triumphantly at her discomposure. It was so easy to unsettle a Mudblood. 

Now that he'd been spotted, Draco walked fluidly towards them, taking his time and keeping his eyes on Granger solely to see if she'd squirm. She didn't. _Kudos, whore._

The students passing by gave the group plenty of leeway and cast curious looks their way. 

Draco reached Potter and leisurely dragged his eyes away from Granger to observe The Boy Who Lived. He could hear Weasel breathing hard, already having trouble containing his temper. Potter however was calm, completely in control and met Draco's scrutiny steadily. The Slytherin's eyes narrowed. Potter wasn't only calm; he was smirking at him. SMIRKING. He reigned in his temper, suppressing it ruthlessly before it was able to spew forth and ruin his perfectly mocking, unaffected composure. 

"Hullo, _Harry_!" He said, his tone a false mimicry of that used between old friends. 

"Hiya, Drake!" Harry responded just as cheerfully, not at all disconcerted by Draco's apparent friendliness. 

__

Drake. Very cute, Potter.

Potter's sidekicks stared at them in disbelief. 

Crossing his arms, Draco took a step closer to the Gryffindor and smiled. 

"I was wondering about your plans for today." He said, his voice saccharine sweet. "I do hope they don't involve me. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely _adore_ your charming attempts to _save_ me, however I do have more important things to do-" Draco trailed off as he heard Granger mutter something which had the Weasel snickering. 

His smile widened as he turned and addressed Hermione. "For example, _Granger.._."

"Leave her alone, Malfoy." Ron said, immediately serious. 

"I do as I please, Weasley." He responded without bothering to look at Ron. He continued before the redhead had a chance to retort, "I've been attempting to figure out what best to do with your _kind._." His nose wrinkled as if the last word had left a bad taste in his mouth. "..after your defeat." 

"I've told you there's no chance in hell that you'll win, Malfoy." Came the strained reply from Harry who managed to keep the bright smile. 

Draco ignored Harry entirely and continued on as if he had not been interrupted. "Tell me, would you prefer servicing your Pureblood lords same way you do with Snape -- it would be a privilege really -- or would you rather work among the house elves? Don't worry about the latter, _Mudblood_, you'd fit right in." 

"You slimy *git*! Take that back!" Cried Ron. There was a brief scuffle as Harry struggled to hold back the fiery redhead who badly wanted to give Draco some permanent physical damage. "I'm gonna pound you into fine dust, you bastard!" He wailed as he shoved awkwardly at Harry's arms. Harry dragged Ron farther away from the Slytherin despite the redhead's hell bent effort to grab and kill the blond. 

"RON!" Snapped Hermione. It surprised Ron enough to make him pause in his struggles to get away from Harry. She was breathing hard, but she answered Draco levelly. "Thank you for offering such choices you're very considerate." She said sweetly. Hermione smiled brightly at Ron before facing Draco once again. "But really, I make my own decisions. For example, right now I've decided to indulge in a bit of reminiscing." She said smoothly. 

A loud _crack_ resonated through the hall. 

The slap connected solidly with his face and was sure to leave a red mark. He honestly hadn't seen it coming.

It left Draco dazed for a moment and he looked at her blankly, nonplused. His cheek began to sting terribly and the veins below the abused skin pulsed madly with every heartbeat. It happened once in third year, and it has happened again. The Mudblood had dared to slap him. Again, goddammit, _AGAIN_. 

"Remember that, Draco? And I'm not doing anything with Snape." She finished angrily. 

Draco exploded. His wand was out and a crippling Dark Art hex was rolling out of his tongue before he even realized that he had reacted. 

However, before he had the full curse out his wand had disappeared. Simple as that. He stared at his empty hand, flabbergasted. 

"Over here, Malfoy." 

Hard green eyes were set on Draco, watching dispassionately. The wand had flown out of Draco's grip and had landed neatly into Harry's. The Gryffindor's own wand was still raised at Draco. He lowered it. Draco began to tremble.

"Why haven't you given it up?" Potter sounded tired, aged beyond his years. "Anything you try to do to us tends to royally backfire on your stubborn arse."

The Slytherin's body was shaking in silent fury. His hands were balled into tight fists, drawn close to his sides. 

"The wand, Potter." He said, hollowly. 

"Maybe you want to get rid of Muggleborn wizards and Muggle supporters because you can't handle the competition, Malfoy. Who knows? Purebloods could possibly be less clever than everyone else." 

"The wand, Potter." Draco repeated.

"I don't think that's it though. I'm plenty clever, Ron's plenty clever too..." Harry continued. 

"_The wand, Potter_." Draco hissed. 

"Maybe, Malfoy, it's just you." 

Eyes flashing in outrage and teeth gnashed, Draco rushed up so he was nose to nose with the Gryffindor who stared at him evenly. Harry's scent flooded his senses. "Outside of Hogwarts." Draco promised his voice dead despite his very evident trembling. "We'll see who's good enough when it counts. You're going to fall short and your precious Mudbloods are going to die because of it." 

Harry pressed his lips into a thin, grim line. His eyes seemed to gain dark shadows beneath and for a moment he looked as old as Draco felt. "Want your wand?" Harry said, abruptly. Draco just stared. "Well, Pureblood, bend down and get it!" Spat Harry. Angrily, he tossed the wand down the hall, shot Draco a look of utter disgust, and stalked away. Hermione watched, wide-eyed. "_Harry_!" She said in astonishment. She shot an indecipherable look at the Slytherin before grabbing Ron (who was crowing) by the arm and following the Boy Who Lived. Together the trio disappeared down the hallway. 

Left breathing harshly, as if he'd raced the length of Hogwarts, Draco glared spitefully in the direction the Gryffindors had gone. Potter had always managed to get under his skin and this time was no different. His body still trembled, waves of outrage and anger coursed through him. He had just been upstaged by Potter and was left feeling keenly inadequate. He had lost all self-control and had acted out mindlessly. 

Draco had nearly incriminated himself by using a rather nasty Dark Arts hex inside of Hogwarts. Potter had unwittingly saved him from doing so and then had made up for it by humiliating the Slytherin. 

He glared around, making certain that no one had been there to witness this injury to his pride and let out a quiet tense breath. The corridor had emptied out at some point. Everyone had been in a hurry to get to lunch. The Slytherin inhaled deeply and willed his body to calm down. 

He walked down the corridor, swiftly picking up his wand and tucking it inside the safety of his robes. 

-------

Draco woke up with a start. There was parchment sticking to his face and he hastily removed it as he sat up and looked around. He was in his dormitory in front of his desk with books and parchment piled neatly around him. He must've fallen asleep while reading. He had been researching for a Transfiguration paper that was due in two weeks time. Draco rubbed at the cramps in his neck and stretched languidly. It was fairly dark and quiet outside of his room. He glanced at the clock. Early morning. 

He groaned and leaned forward again, head resting on crossed arms. Draco peered across the room to the closed window and the early dawn beyond. He hazily imagined seeing the silhouette of Potter doing lazy loops on his broom through the early light. "Petrificus Totalis." Draco said quietly. He could envision perfectly the widening of Potter's eyes just as his bound body lost control of the broom and began to free-fall to its death. He could see the Gryffindor locking eyes with him in sudden understanding. He would beg for his life and his eyes would attempt to convince Draco that he had finally understood the full implications of picking the Mudblood side. Just what he wanted to see. Potter helpless to Draco's whims. "Wrong side. I told you so." Draco said knowingly, a smile on his lips. 

"Avada Kedavra. Goodbye, Potter." He finished. 

A flash of green light and then all that was left was the emerald glossy stare of the lifeless Boy Who Lived_._

You're life is bound to tragedy, Harry. 

__

Is not! Said the playful voice of the free-falling corpse. 

Draco started and swore violently at his daydream. Even in his mind, Potter got the last word. The Slytherin growled and stood up, moving to his trunk and pulling out his toiletries. 

He muttered an unwrinkling charm for his robes, which straightened out immediately, and he crammed his toiletries into a pocket before heading out to the Prefect bathroom. Once there, he peeled off the crumpled clothing he had slept in and gratefully stepped into a hot shower. He ducked his head under the force of the water, running his hands through his hair, and enjoying the feel of the droplets pelting his skin. It beat down forcefully and the pleasant noise of the shower drowned out everything else, lulling Draco into a relaxed, unaware state.

His thoughts led back to last night. Studying had only delayed his preoccupation with Potter. He had fallen asleep and Potter had haunted him throughout the night. The Gryffindor tormented him there, appearing in dream after dream and trying to convince Draco of utter foolishness even then. Harry smiled at him in the last one and kissed him full on the lips. 

Then he pushed Draco off a cliff. 

The Slytherin rolled his eyes. He picked up a bar of soap and began to finish showering. 

---------

When Draco entered his dormitory, he found Potter sitting on his bed waiting for him. 

Draco hexed him, picked up his broom and left for breakfast. 

--------

Later that morning, Draco sat in the empty Quidditch stands, reading a Potions text and reviewing for the class. He knew Potter would find him. Potter always found him. He would hold Draco hostage at least once every day and he'd recite one of his 'Mudbloods are our equal' tirades boring the Slytherin to tears. It was rather amusing at times though to make Potter lose his patience and snap. 

A nondescript sound behind him. 

__

And there he is, thought Draco. He tucked his book within his cloak and stared out at the Quidditch field. It was nice crisp weather today, perfect for Quidditch. Practice had gone well.

There were more obvious noises behind him on his right. Subtlety wasn't Potter's strong suit. 

He proved it by loudly clearing his throat. 

Draco steeled himself and turned around to stare at the Gryffindor. Harry was sitting two benches behind and to the right, leaning forward with his arms crossed on his lap. One foot was propped up on the bench in front of him. He was huddled within his cloak and watching Draco. The occasional brisk wind caused Potter's unruly hair to sway sharply to the side revealing the scar and reminding Draco of Harry's status in the Wizarding world. Draco scowled. They had their usual staring contest until Harry flashed a brilliant smile at Draco, which never failed to annoy the Slytherin. 

"Goody, my savior has arrived." drawled the blond. 

Harry shrugged and smiled even more brightly. "Rejoice then, Malfoy."

Draco responded with a blank look.

A short while passed and the Gryffindor's smile began to falter. His mouth parted as if he was to say something but he clamped down again. Something was bothering him and he studied Draco thoughtfully who stared back with a stony expression. 

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm sorry." He said in a strained sort of way. "I'm sorry about yesterday, I shouldn't have snapped at you like that." It was as if apologizing caused him physical pain.

Draco smirked. "We're not buddies, Potter. You don't apologize to me." 

"Well, I just did. Hermione-" Then he bit his tongue. 'Hermione made me do it' was written all over his face. 

__

Why would Granger want him to apologize? Draco remained unimpressed. "Cute. Now that you have apologized, I have regained the will to live. Your job here is done. You may go now, Potter."

And the smile was back. "Don't think so, Drake." He moved down two rows to sit right on Draco's side despite the Slytherin's most unwelcome expression. 

"You're on the wrong side, you know." He said, casually.

"I've learned a wide variety of hexes, you know." Draco responded just as casually. 

"Why must you-"

"Stop trying to save me, Potter." The Slytherin interrupted, immediately going to the point. "I don't need saving."

Harry frowned and looked out at the Quidditch field, studying the hoops. He sighed. "Ever occurred to you that you're doing our world no favors?"

"Ever occurred to _you_ that you're fighting the best chance we've ever had?"

Harry whipped around. Piercing green eyes clashed with silver. "That wasn't an attempt to get _me_ on Voldemort's side, was it?" He asked in disbelief. 

"You're on the wrong side, Potter." Draco echoed mockingly. 

"Voldemort killed my parents."

"Voldemort. Good chap, he is!" The Slytherin said cheerfully. 

Harry scowled darkly. "You're such a sick fuck, Malfoy." He bit out.

"I know! We evildoers are just so appalling! Really!"

The Gryffindor shook his head and bit down on his tongue. Seconds later, he burst, "Who do you think you are to judge who should be in this world and who shouldn't? Ever heard of 'live and let live', Malfoy? How on earth do you think that ridding our world of Muggleborns will do any good? A Pureblood has nothing- MALFOY!"

Draco was humming. He paused and raised both eyebrows at Potter. "Mm?" He inquired. "What, have you finished feeding me self-righteous rubbish?"

Harry glared. "All I ask," He said quietly, "is who are you to judge who should be in this world and who shouldn't."

The Slytherin looked at his nails idly and shrugged. "I'm a Malfoy." 

"Good for you, you pompous arse. Surnames don't count for everything."

"I agree. I also have my looks and my charming personalities." 

The Boy Who Lived raised an eyebrow. "Plural, Malfoy?"

"Yes. There's my Veela princess side, my dashing dragon slayer side-"

"Malfoy!" Harry groaned but a tiny smile quirked the corners his lips. He shook his head.

"Look." He said earnestly, thoughtfully. "Who are you fighting for?" 

Draco frowned slightly as if in deep thought, his eyebrows creased together. "Well... I fight for my Veela princess side, my dashing dragon.." He trailed off, smirking as the Gryffindor glared daggers at him. 

"Look." He tried again. "I want you. You've always been there. From the start even if only as an enemy, you have been a part of my life."

"Aww, Potty feeling nostalgic? I'm touched."

"Shut up, SHUT UP!" Potter paused, then continued as if he hadn't just had an outburst. "I don't want to kill you. I want us for once to be on the same side. Get out now, Malfoy. What good will it do you to live in a Pureblood only world? How could Muggleborns be possibly holding back Purebloods? You think Voldemort is going to stop at Muggleborns?" He continued tensely. "He's going to keep seeking power, he's going to rule over you. Want to be Voldemort's slave, Draco?"

The Slytherin noticed that Potter was unconsciously leaning closer as he spoke. His hands were on his sides, gripping the terrace seat so tightly that his knuckles had become bone white from the strain. The wind picked up blowing Potter's hair into his face. His hair seemed so soft. 

"You're a fool Potter." Draco finally answered. "I hate Mudbloods. You think I'll let one rule over me?"

The Gryffindor's eyes grew wide and he drew back looking utterly bewildered. He gaped and blinked at Draco several times, uncomprehendingly. 

"Wha- How..why.." Harry fell silent, his expression calculating. He seemed to be reassessing Draco. "I don't understand."

Draco smirked. "I'm Slytherin. Ambition's my forte. And note that I'll be killing _you_ not vice versa. Try and keep that in mind." 

Potter seemed to have had enough. His nostrils flared and he looked up at the sky, supplicating. He raised his hands palm up in exasperation. "It's like talking to a brick wall!"

"A handsome brick wall!"

"Shut UP, you..." He was left grasping for words.

"..ferret?" Draco suggested helpfully.

"UGH." The Gryffindor buried his face in his hands. Taking several calming breaths, he faced Draco, who looked like he was thoroughly enjoying himself. 

"I'm going to try everything to win you over." Potter said in a tone that left no room for doubts.

"How romantic. Such vows. Forgive me if I swoon. The nausea can be overwhelming at times like this." 

"This isn't a game!"

"But we could make it one! Exploding Snap? I can conjure us up a deck."

"I want you not what you stand for." The Gryffindor said through gritted teeth.

Draco looked astonished. "You mean you don't want blood and mayhem? Pity!" 

"Your future children's names Malfoy?"

The Slytherin nodded vigorously. 

There was an odd look on Potter's face. Draco watched as his frame began to shake silently. Potter looked away, his odd expression deepening. Then, he burst out laughing. The Slytherin raised an eyebrow. 

"You're impossible." He said through his mirth. He continued. "Draco. There's no reason for you to follow your father's footsteps…"

__

Idiot. I'm not following my father's footsteps.

"Be on our side, convince a few Slytherins to switch too. Voldemort doesn't offer you anything worthwhile."

Draco looked at him blandly. "That's your brilliant plan? Do you think we're bonding, Potter? You think that getting most influential Slytherin on your side will make the rest of my house follow? We're not Hufflepuffs, you Gryffindor twit. We follow our own wants and when they are acquired we wait until your back is turned and perform an Unforgivable Curse on your sorry arse."

"Not all Slytherins could possibly be like that."

Draco smirked in response. 

The Gryffindor ignored the smirk and bit his lip. He asked quietly, "Why did you just tell me all of that?" 

"Why? Because I enjoy ruining your dastardly plans." Came the amused reply.

Harry groaned again and rolled his eyes. 

"Bit off more than you can chew, savior?"

"No." Potter replied almost absentmindedly. "You're nothing that I can't handle."

Draco scowled at that and glared. The Gryffindor noticed, folded his arms and smirked. "Didn't like that, did you?"

Draco refrained from gouging Harry's eyes out. 

They had a staring contest again. Then, The Boy Who Lived scooted over so that he was in close proximity to the Slytherin. So close that their thighs brushed together. 

Draco went very still. In this kind of game, Potter had him beat. Annoyingly, his heart began hammering wildly. Harry ran his hand over the Slytherin's left. His hand was warm and callused against Draco's skin. He brushed his lips over Draco's palm before placing the blond's hand on his face.

"This seems to be the only way to get any heartfelt reaction from you." Talking more to himself, he spoke quietly, eyes closed and Draco's palm pressed tightly against his cheek. "Your hand is warm. You're human too, aren't you? Everyone has a weakness." 

Draco remained silent. 

"I really don't have time for this. He's going to attack Hogwarts before Christmas and I need to be ready for it. You know, I don't think I hate you. I'm saving all my hate for Voldemort and Death Eaters." Harry squeezed his hand. "Please, Draco. Think of _all_ the consequences."

Harry studied the Slytherin's face carefully, searching for any signs of his words making some kind of impact on the Slytherin. Draco kept his expression carefully blank. The Gryffindor's cheek was cool to the touch. His hand inexplicably ignored his request to yank away from Harry.

The cold weather suddenly felt biting to Draco. He hunched his shoulders closer trying to regain some warmth. Abruptly, Harry let down his hand and stood up. He gave the Slytherin a harmless smile and left the terrace. Draco blinked after him, listening to his footsteps fade away. Then he pulled out his Potions book and resumed preparing for class. He ignored the weather. 

-------

Father,

If it's true that the Dark Lord is planning to attack before Christmas then there's a spy in Hogwarts, one that knows rather valuable information. They've been leaking secrets to the Mudbloods. 

Send money, you aging prude. And thank _mum_ for the chocolates. 

Draco


End file.
